


To heal a wound, you need to stop touching it

by jeanjosten



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Kandreil - Freeform, M/M, Polyamory, Post-Graduation, Post-Series, Psychological Trauma, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 03:03:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13309071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeanjosten/pseuds/jeanjosten
Summary: Some nights, Kevin Day jerks awake with the weight of his past. These nights, Neil's there to pull him back to the present.





	To heal a wound, you need to stop touching it

**Author's Note:**

> Just fluff, what do you know. Recently found myself shipping Kandreil and after thoroughly hating myself, I let go.  
> Also I love Kevin so much.

On some nights, Kevin Day feels like he might go _insane_.

He’s read all about recovering from trauma in books and magazines, in colorful flyers of medical waiting rooms, on health websites when damage-controlling his sore spots after practice. It’s brutal and it’s unpleasant, but he’s read all about it by now—and most of the time, it’s safe to say he’s healed and blooming and better than he’s ever been before.

There’s no such thing as _never_ , however, and Kevin’s as human as it gets.

Neil and Andrew are used to it by now; it’s not like they haven’t seen every ugly bit of Kevin’s personality, from his infuriating arrogance to his startling anxiety. Fear of loneliness and secondhand frayed nerves are to be expected as consequences of a psychological trauma, and they’ve done a great job so far at never leaving Kevin alone for too long no matter how many therapists have told Kevin to grow out of his distress. Andrew will choke any of them if given the opportunity, and Neil solely thinks he knows better than their cheap piece of advice.

There’s no such thing as _growing out of_ anything for Kevin Day. It’s there, imprinted in his skin, anchored in his flesh, it stays with him every second passing by. Some days it’s quiet enough that he forgets about it, others it’s so deafening he can hardly think about Exy at all.

These days, waking up and getting out of bed is practically impossible, and though it might look like a harsh regressive step back, Neil and Andrew both know it’s inevitable. When it happens, they do their best to stick around as quietly as they can, assure Kevin of their presence without suffocating him either. It’s horridly easy to jump from one extreme to the other, and it’s taken years for them to master the art of comforting Kevin Day through his sleepless nights.

Though Neil and Kevin have been reunited in the same team six months ago, Andrew’s still somewhere else playing for an opponent, and their spacious apartment in New-York feels oddly empty without his fierce and unquestionable presence. It’s okay—they’re used to it by now, and it’s way too reassuring to remember that Neil’s going to be there no matter what, that Neil’s going to follow him all over the country. And even though it’s because Neil’s jersey wears the same team name, he’s quietly convinced Neil would have followed him even without the tie binding them. It’s something much more unspeakable, something they never ever mention and don’t need to anyways. Something like affection, something like love.

There’s a sharp breath when Neil wakes up from the huge bed they all share, and it takes only a second to realize it’s deprived of any body heat. He knows Andrew’s game schedules by heart and it’s easy to remember he’ll only be back in a few hours, but Kevin’s absence is less easily explainable, and he jumps off the sheets and out of bed in a blink.

There’s no door to close or open from the bedroom to the lounge, so it’s fast and reassuring to spot Kevin’s familiar silhouette standing crossed-arms before the floor-to-ceiling windows. They’re far up the world, from here; far up the city anyways. Neil had argued getting such an expensive, luxurious apartment wasn’t a necessity, but Andrew’s standards and Kevin’s bad habit for all costly, beautiful things had gotten the best of him in the end. He didn’t regret giving up on nights like these, when the city remained sleepless under their feet, nightlights shining through the comfortable darkness like a familiar sight.

Neil takes a moment to take him in, to retrace the delicate frame of Kevin’s strong and lean body, and the corner of his lips curl up despite him. He knows too well why Kevin is up—he’s awaken too many times in the middle of the night with his bed left empty to not figure it out by now. He approaches quietly, with the soft tranquility of someone who means well, and when he stops, it’s right up against Kevin’s back, hands deep in the pockets of his sweatpants and mouth gentle against Kevin’s clothed shoulder.

There’s a whisper overflowing with exhausted affection, but there’s no word. It’s an eternity before one of them speaks, and unsurprisingly, it’s Kevin.

“Did I wake you up?” he asks, and it’s more out of curiosity than worry. Kevin is far from having Nicky’s innate loudness and inability for stealth, but he’s not naturally inclined to be discreet, either. Kevin rarely bothers to do something he doesn’t want to do to spare someone else’s feelings, much less if it’s Neil’s. Tonight, somehow, the words sound a little more soft than they usually are.

“Nightmare,” he shrugged, and Kevin could only tell because Neil’s body bumped into his as he did.

There’s a timid second stretching out between them, and then Neil’s arms are wrapped around Kevin’s waist. He knows better than to say no—knows better than to deny the physical comfort of Neil’s affection. Sometimes pride is much greater cost to pay than letting his guard down.

Kevin doesn’t ask what Neil’s nightmare was about. It’s one of those things they gently sidestep and avoid at all costs, not because they mind sharing it, but because it doesn’t matter as much as it did then. There are still things heavy in their chests, however, and they’ve gotten wise enough to figure when they need to open up.

Neil guesses this is one of those nights, otherwise Kevin likely wouldn’t have let him get this close. There were few occurrences when Kevin agreed to physical contact, fewer even when he asked for it first. He didn’t dislike the touch like Andrew fiercely did; he simply fared better untouched. It didn’t include Kevin’s passionate kisses or Kevin’s post-game arousal, of course, but Neil knew that much.

They’d won a few hours ago, while Andrew was four states away winning his own game, and the both of them had celebrated by stumbling all the way to their apartment and hardly parting long enough to undress. They’d been too exhausted to shower afterwards, spared of Andrew’s usual tacit order to go and get clean after sex, and Neil could still feel the familiar scent of sweat and perfume through Kevin’s t-shirt.

“Mm,” Neil murmured sleepily against the fabric, and he tightened his embrace a little bit. Kevin uncrossed his arms eventually, and when he did, he slid two palms up and down Neil’s arms in an absentminded caress. The appreciative smile Neil gave in response was easily felt against his shoulder, and it was almost enough for Kevin to lose track of his anxiety-ridden thoughts. “We can take the Maserati out for an hour or two,” he suggested as he straightened just enough to dig the tip of his nose in Kevin’s hair.

“I don’t feel like moving,” he replied. Many times Neil had used distraction as a means to appease him, and Neil had driven him in and out of the city more than one night. It was soothing enough that it’d worked, driving peacefully with the radio on, the only lights being the skyscrapers and the dashboard’s night mode. It was electrifying, especially when he let a hand gently stroke Neil’s thigh or when Neil allowed him to turn the music to the maximal volume despite his brutal dislike for loudness.

“Not even to the bed?” Neil whined, but it was sleepy enough that it was half-hearted. Neil didn’t really care where they went, and if they even moved at all—taking advantage of Kevin’s warmth was enough reward.

“Later.” His voice was low and quiet, but it had nothing of last night’s hoarse and gravelly tones. It was coldness and fear, it was raw, and Neil knew the sound of it a little too much.

“I’m here,” he reminded, though a little uselessly. In response, Kevin pulled out of his grip and turned around. They faced each other in silence at first, taking in every bit of their familiar features, from Kevin’s messy dark hair to Neil’s sleepy blue eyes. Then Neil dug his hands in his pockets once more, craving the comfortable warmth he’d abandoned under the sheets.

Kevin made up for it by leaning in and cupping Neil’s face with both hands. The kiss he gave Neil was thoughtless and visceral, but it was patient enough that the honesty of it was striking. It made Neil’s eyes close in comfort, and his lips part as he asked for more, even when Kevin pulled away.

He let his hands on Neil’s face, unwilling to let go just yet. It was easy to forget how handsome Neil Josten actually was, but having him all for him sometimes was enough to remember. He felt a rush of nostalgia shaking him all the way through; a bit of bad memories and a bit of good ones, but mostly the strange tie of boys who’ve known each other since they were kids. He still remembered Neil’s wide-eyed expression the first day they’d met, and then the dark yet telling self-control when his father had killed a man right in front of them.

It made him feel a little more protective, and he let numb thumbs stroke Neil’s cheekbones as Neil put his own hands on top of his.

“You’re here,” he breathed deeply.

It was more than an absurd evidence: it was the words they usually forced out to remind each other how far they’d come. They’d grown and matured and slipped themselves out of trouble. It didn’t bother them that eighty percent of their salary went right back to Ichirou, or that Neil bore the all-obvious scars of a past he couldn’t deny. Kevin loved his scars with every ounce of affection he was capable of, and he knew more than anyone what they stood for. It was strength and bravery and perhaps the only thing that had saved Kevin himself.

Neil was a mouthy, pig-headed brat, and he’d often forget that Neil had taught him how to be brave.

“It’s been years,” Neil said flatly, and it was neither a complaint nor a mockery. It was knowledge, nothing more, nothing less. In his mouth, it almost tasted like a reward. “He’s gone.”

“Is he?” Kevin smiled, but it was so full of bitterness it made Neil’s guts churn.

“Hey,” he started, frown fierce with determination as he grabbed Kevin’s hands with his and gently kissed his knuckles. “He can’t touch you. He can’t have you back.”

Riko’s death should have proof enough, but the ghost of him still lingered in both their minds. Andrew’s hatred was born out of exposure and principle, but Neil and Riko had lived under his questionable care. They’d never be able to forget the cruel twist of his voice or the smirk that preceded and followed every blow, ugly with self-satisfaction and greed.

“I won’t give you back,” Neil said, and he kissed Kevin’s knuckles once more.

Kevin thoughtfully looked at his hands as he did, miles and miles away from reality. It’d be only a few hours before Andrew came home, and they’d probably celebrate his victory the only way Andrew cared to; then he’d have the both of them for a few days before they’d part again. It did make him feel lighter to know that Neil would be there, the unshakeable striker partner his team had always needed.

He’d almost forgotten how _good_ Neil was, and how _terrifying_ the both of them could be when playing together. Kevin was the best he’d ever been, and Neil never ceased to amaze him with innate skills and a determination he couldn’t shake out of him even if he tried. Countless were the newspapers who’d tried to approach them for an interview, asking for front covers and special photoshoots. More than an astounding striker duo, they were a power couple nobody could question.

It would have made Riko so lividly mad that it sometimes was enough to take pride in it and stand his ground. Not that Kevin had any hard time standing his ground now, anyways.

Rain softly splattered against the window behind them, and Neil offered the ghost of a smile.

“I’m proud of you,” Kevin muttered without looking away. It was as intimidating as unexpected, and Neil flinched out of surprise.

“What,” he asked without thinking about it.

“Don’t make me repeat myself and accept it.”

He watched closely as Neil’s mouth slowly twisted in a content smile. That was perhaps the first time Kevin had ever said those words, no matter how many times Neil believed he’d seen them in Kevin’s glinting eyes. Knowing the words were there somewhere was something—hearing them was totally another, and he felt breathless for a second.

“Okay,” he accepted. “Is it about yesterday’s game?”

Kevin shook his head, eyes fierce with an affection he didn’t bother to deny. Not tonight, anyway. “It is for everything,” he corrects, and wiggles himself free of Neil’s gentle grip to pull Neil closer. The embrace says _even more_ , and the lips on Neil’s forehead say _thank you_.


End file.
